


Too Much and Not Enough

by PearlTopaz



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anorexia, Bulimia, Child Abuse, Eating Disorder, Flashbacks, High School AU, Homophobia, Insecurities, M/M, Self Harm, Soulmate AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-10-30 14:15:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10878504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PearlTopaz/pseuds/PearlTopaz
Summary: Soulmate AU where your soulmate tattoo represents your soulmate's state of mind and mental health.Dean and Cas are trying to support each other through anorexia, bulimia, self harm, and abuse. Since neither of them are good at chick-flick moments, though, things are staying where they are: pretty damn bad. Their system works, but not well enough. Until an incident of the worst kind makes them realize that a lot of their lives needs fixing, and they need each other more than they ever thought.Trigger warnings for... actually, just check the tags, but self harm, eating disorders, child abuse, homophobia, the lot.I feel I should mention that there's also a crapton of fluff in here so just FYI its not exactly the darkest story in the world it just has those components.





	1. Chapter 1

Most of the time, people complain about not being enough. Not smart enough, not thin enough, not good enough. Dean knew that.

But he had never seen it that way.

He saw himself as too much.

Too fat, too thoughtless, too clingy. Too stupid, too hard to like, too problematic. Too lazy, too morbid.

Just too much.

 

oOo

 

Dean stared down at the blank paper in front of him.

The assignment was to write about his favorite family memory. Everyone else was busy writing. Most of them were smiling. Apparently  _they_ were just full of happy, pleasant, loving family moments.

Only one other person was as stumped as him.

Cas.

Dean watched as Cas chewed on his pencil, frowning. Suddenly, he looked up. Electric blue eyes met Dean's bright green ones. Dean winked. Cas looked confused for a second, then smiled- a big, gummy smile that made Dean's heart skip a beat.

Dean jumped as a loud Southern voice cut through the air.

"Boys, more writing, less winking! You can flirt after class!"

"Sorry, Mrs. Moseley." the two boys said in unison, both blushing a little.

Dean went back to staring at the paper as if it would suddenly burst out with some happy, generic family memory. He would probably have just made something up, but Mrs. Moseley had a real talent for picking out lies, and Dean did not want to redo the whole assignment.

Did Bobby count as family? No, Lawrence was a small town. Mrs. Moseley knew he wasn't related to Bobby. Hell, she probably knew the entire Winchester family tree. She was the kind of person who knew everything about everyone.

Dean tried to think. There had to be something that was normal enough to make it look like everything was fine. If he wrote about anything else, the counselor would get involved, and that meant a letter home, and that meant a beating from his dad. No thank you.

Well, there was that one time...

Dean smiled a little. It was a blurry memory, but it had been happy. That much, he was sure of.

Back when his mom was alive.

Looking at over at Cas one last time, who still seemed to be struggling, Dean began to write.

_When I was about three and a half, maybe a bit older, my mom, my dad, me, and baby Sammy went to the beach. It was a warm day in the summer, and we had driven for about two days to get there. I don't know exactly where we were, but it was a great beach. Really hot out, and the water was perfect. I had never been in the ocean before. My mom wanted to play in the water, so my dad played with Sam in the sand while my mom showed me how to surf the waves. We had brought a picnic lunch and we ate sandwiches and potato chips and my mom's pie, which is to this day the best pie I've ever had. It was cherry. Then me and my mom went back into the ocean. She was so beautiful in her bright blue swimsuit. I was a little scared of the water, but when I went in, my mom smiled, and I loved her smile. I would do anything to get her to smile. So I went in, and it was really, really fun. I got pulled underwater by an undertow and experienced the most terrifying three seconds of my short life before my mom pulled me back up. I was in no danger, really, but at that moment it felt like she'd saved my life. Also, I got pretty scared, and went and built sandcastles with Sammy while my mom acted like an actual mermaid in the waves. I don't remember everything about this day, but I've seen enough pictures- Sam was about five months old. I can't really remember another day when my dad was so happy. He smiled so much. Sammy was a chubby little baby. He could barely sit up, but he seemed to love the sand and sandcastles. He had the most adorable grin. I was also a really cute little kid. My face was absolutely covered in cherry filling. I also got cherry filling on my swimsuit. My mom played in the water almost the entire time. None of us guys were all that into it, but my mom seemed like she was born in the sea. She looked so happy, so carefree._

_You'd never guess that a month later, she'd be dead._

 

oOo

 

Dean flexed his fingers reflexively as he walked out of his English class. Finally. He was getting tired of these memory assignments that Mrs. Moseley was so fond of.  _Write about your scariest memory. Write about your favorite memory with an animal. Write about your favorite outdoors memory. Write about your favorite memory with grandparents._ It never ended. And the trouble was, Dean even managed to be bad at these. His scariest memory was the time his dad found a gay porn magazine under his bed and beat him until he was barely conscious because he "didn't want no ugly, stupid, faggot son- you're enough of a problem without being a fucking fag, too". If he wrote about that, his dad would get arrested. Sammy would get taken away from him. Not an option. So he'd written about some haunted house his class went to in sixth grade- thank the Lord for scholarship money- that he barely remembered anyway. All he really remembered about that trip was that Cas had been in his class, and watching Cas' face after a jumpscare was honestly one of the cutest and most amusing things Dean had ever seen. 

Of course, Crowley and his gang had seen Dean watching Cas and had made fun of him to no end for the next few weeks, complete with spitballs and one fist to the nose. Whatever. It hadn't been the first punch he'd gotten and it would certainly not be the last. It wasn't even a good punch anyway.

Dean had been on the receiving end of enough fists to know the difference.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm back! TW for child abuse. I think that's all? Please tell me if I missed something. I'm going to stop giving these chapters names, as I am absolutely TERRIBLE at naming. Sorry :(.

Castiel was never enough.

He knew that was probably a pretty normal problem to have. But it was his, all the same.

Never smart enough, never fast enough, never successful enough. Never charismatic enough, never motivated enough. Never strong enough, never good enough.

Just not enough.

 

oOo

 

Cas angrily threw his blank sheet of paper into the trash can in his room. He'd been staring at the stupid thing for forty-five minutes straight, and he couldn't think of a single happy family memory.

Plenty of bad ones. They were all bad ones, that was the problem. The happiest thing he could remember was the day Anna had said his name for the first time. It was when he got the nickname Cas. He still remembered her tiny red curls, the way she had shown all four of her teeth with a huge smile as her bubbly, bright voice declared for the world to hear "Cas! Cas! Cas!" and tugged on his sleeve until he picked her up and tickled her.

The only problem was that five minutes later, Naomi had stormed into the room, grabbed Anna, and yanked her out of Castiel's arms. She'd slapped him and hissed "Castiel, what have I told you? Do not play with Anna! I hope to raise her to be as successful as your brother Lucifer, and you have already proved that you are not a good influence." She'd slapped him again, then carried the now-crying Anna out of the room, leaving six-year-old Cas on the floor with a red mark on his cheek and tears in his eyes.

But it was the best he could remember, except for a few extremely illegal excursions with Gabe that would definitely not be acceptable for school.

Oh well. He'd just cut out the end. The rest was fine. It wasn't like it would be the first time he'd done it.

 

oOo

 

She wouldn't take it.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Moseley, what?"

"Son, this is not acceptable. You wrote three sentences. And you ended in the middle of it! Boy, I asked for your happiest family memory. It feels like you pulled this out of the trash, half finished. I'll give you full credit if you bring me a rewrite before class tomorrow, but that is your last chance."

"Yes, Mrs, Moseley." Cas wanted to scream. Didn't she know that not everyone had a perfect, apple-pie life? He had happy memories, sure, but they weren't with his family!

Actually, he suspected that was the point of this assignment. Mrs. Moseley said she had a sixth sense. Cas didn't know if that was true, but he knew that she was probably going to go to a counselor if he couldn't come up with something. He'd asked Gabe, who told him that he hadn't been able to lie quite well enough, and the school had sent a letter home. Naomi handled it just fine. The school had been politely told that they were overreacting, but Gabriel himself had been forbidden meals for two days straight.

Cas was constantly on his mother's bad side anyway. He didn't need anything else on his plate.

He would have to think of a happy family memory- or a really, really good lie.

Probably a lie.

 

oOo

 

Castiel was hiding under his bed.

It wasn't his favorite hiding place, but Naomi had found him last time, when he hid in the closet.

There was definitely a joke in there, but Cas had enough of that sort of joke from Gabe.

Either way, he was under the bed, blankets draped artfully to subtly hide him without being obviously hiding something.

He could hear screaming from downstairs- Naomi screeching about public image and tradition, Micheal yelling back about freedom and choice. 

Neither was paying any attention to anything around them. Gabe was probably taking advantage of the fight to sneak out of the house. Cas doubted he'd be back until tomorrow, and Cas also doubted that Naomi would notice at all.

He heard footsteps outside his door. They were too light and fast to be Naomi, so Cas peeked out from behind the bed to see Anna rush into his room. He quickly pulled up the blanket so she could slide under with him.

"Cas, Micheal left. Naomi is looking for you. We gotta go." Anna whispered. Her eyes were wide with fright. 

"Where is Dad?" Cas knew he was probably wasn't home. But maybe...

"Not home. I don't know. Cas, come  _on_!" 

Cas sighed and allowed the ten-year-old girl to drag him out from under the bed.

The yelling had indeed abated. Anna was probably right. They did need to go. Cas grabbed his trench coat and rushed out the door. Anna was following him.

"You look dumb in that jacket." Anna stuck her tongue out at him, even as she ran past him in the hallway. He knew that he probably did, and that he stuck out like a sore thumb, but he needed his trench coat. Plus, it had two hundred dollars in one of the pockets.

Cas and Anna slipped out the back door, breathing hard. Anna spun around for a second, looking a bit crazy. 

"Dean's house?"

"Yes. Come on."

The two ducked under a hedge, through a miniature apple orchard, and past the beehives. They knew the route well, and it had been used many times in both directions. 

They turned a corner, Anna nervously twisting her fingers, and-

bumped right into Dean, who was holding Sam's hand, too.

The four stared at each other, eyes wide.

Well, crap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! How are you? How's your day been so far? Did you wake up early or late? Do you have any pets? My favorite are cats (don't hate me, dog-owners, I love dogs too). I'd love to hear from you! Constructive criticism is also always welcome! Thank you for reading!
> 
> Note: I'm changing the name of this fic, as I'm sure you'll see, so dont be surprised when it changes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took a bit longer- I'm hoping to start a schedule now! I'm going to try to update every Tuesday/Wednesday (don't hold me to it until I can start getting into a pattern, but that's what I'm aiming for). Hope you enjoy!

Dean rounded a corner, gripping Sammy's hand tightly, and nearly smashed right into Castiel.

Shit.

"Cas?" Dean spoke first, after a few moments of everyone looking at each other like deers caught in headlights. "I don't suppose there's any chance you were coming to tell us that Naomi is out of the house and everything is okay?"

His voice wobbled a little bit on the name Naomi. He knew perfectly well that that's not what was happening.

Cas' voice held a forced calm when he said "Sadly, Dean, my mother is in fact home. Is there any chance that you were coming to tell us the same thing about John?"

Dean didn't even have to answer. Cas was wearing his trenchcoat, Dean was wearing his too-big leather jacket. They only wore those when they were heading over to the other's house.

When they were "seeking shelter", as Sam had put it one day.

And that meant that both houses were currently occupied by a screaming parent.

Which meant neither was available as a safehouse.

Great.

 

oOo

 

"Of all the days this had to happen on. Of all the days!" Dean rubbed his hands together as he led Cas, Anna, and Sam towards an intersection. "I have a science test tomorrow, math homework that will seriously lower my grade if I don't turn it in, another stupid English paper, and that fucking history project that was due yesterday! I do not have time for this shit!"

Cas looked reproachfully at him. "Not in front of Anna. She's ten, Dean."

"Right, right, sorry. Ignore that, Anna. I'm just stressed."

Anna gave an uncertain smile that looked like it was balancing the line between laughing and crying. She had heard words like that and worse before, of course. Everyone knew it. But Castiel liked to pretend that Anna was living a life just as normal and functional as any other girl in her grade. 

Dean totally got it. He did his best to take care of Sam, too. Just not quite in the same ways. Sam was twelve, and Dean knew that John had ruined  _his_ innocence a long, long time ago.

Probably when Sam was six months old and Mom was dead and Dad started drinking and swearing and yelling.

Or when Sam was one year old and Mom was still dead and Dad's fists started swinging at now-five-year-old Dean.

Or when...

Dean mentally slapped himself.  _Stop it._ He thought.  _More important things to worry about here._ The pedestrian "walk" light had turned. He grabbed Sam and Anna's hands and quickly pulled them across the busy street. At ten fifteen, it was dark out, and Dean knew this was not a good time for four kids under eighteen to be outside.

Luckily, he knew where they were going.

Cas was walking fast to keep up with the taller Dean's footsteps. Sam and Anna were almost jogging. Dean didn't care. He knew that the faster they could get off the streets and sidewalks, the safer they-

"Hey. You kids."

A deep voice cut the air. Dean's heart dropped.

He turned to face the source of it, unconsciously pushing Sam and Anna behind him and Cas. He felt Anna's hands shaking, and he could hear Sam's ragged breathing.

The man was tall, but not  _that_ tall. He couldn't have been more than 6'5", to Dean's 6'1". With Cas on his side, Dean was pretty sure they could take him in a fight. After all, he didn't look that strong, and there was only one of him.

Just as the thought crossed Dean's head, another guy stepped seemingly out of no where. This one was bigger, bulkier, and definitely more intimidating. 

So maybe fighting wasn't going to be an option.

"I'm gonna guess spoiled kids like you got some money on you, right?" The shorter man did not wait for a response before continuing. "I want a hundred bucks, now. Or I'm shooting out an eye." He brandished a deadly-looking weapon. In the dark, Dean couldn't see very well, but he knew that they were in trouble.

Dean had fifty dollars in his pocket. For emergencies. His actual life savings.

He wasn't about to waste in on this idiot.

Then, the guy raised the gun. He could evidently tell that nobody was going to pay up. He smirked a bit.

Dean's mind blanked. He wanted to pull out his money, to throw away his savings to a drunk with a gun. Unfortunately, he found himself unable to move.

If it weren't for Cas, they would've all been shot and killed. As it was, Cas simply pulled two fifties out of his tan trenchcoat. He practically flung the bills at the men, then, without a word, he grabbed Anna, who was still shaking like a leaf, and yanked her off in the opposite direction. Dean blinked twice, then sprinted after Cas and Anna, Sam close behind. Cas seemed to be waiting for something. He stared expectantly at Dean. Dean stared back.

"Oh right! I'm leading, aren't I. Let's go."

Cas was humming some boring classical music when they arrived at the house. It looked derelict, peeling paint and crumbling brink. But Dean knew.

"Bobby's house!" Dean turned around and presented to the three other teens, what he knew as the "bestest place in the world". 

The reactions were underwhelming at best.

A yawn from Cas. Fingernail picking from Sam. Anna just looked bored.

Oh well. You can't win them all.

Using the spare key under the flower pot, Dean pushed open the door. Ignoring the others, Dean instantly collapsed on the couch,

They all crashed Bobby's place that night. Even if a little bit of sleep and also $100 were lost, they gained a night with no slaps, no stinging cheeks, no yelling decorating the air, no smell of booze seeping into their rooms.

They needed that break.

It wasn't something they got often.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! How's your day been? Done anything fun recently? Or anything unusual or funny? I would love to hear from you! Constructive criticism, response to my questions, anything- kudos and comments make my day!
> 
> Here's a good question: what do you think about thunderstorms? It's currently storming where I live, and I just love the sounds of the storm, especially thunder and heavy rain. But my close friend is absolutely terrified of storms! Which side do you take?
> 
> Like I said, I love to hear from you. Please excuse any grammar/spelling mistakes this chapter, my autocorrect and formatting have gone a bit wonky.
> 
> Bye!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So, I'm sorry I'm so late, but I had this entire chapter written and ready, but then the draft didn't save, and that was on Wednesday, so I had to rewrite the whole thing. Also, I'm sorry if it feels like I skipped something- comment if it does and I'll try to fix it, it's just that my first draft was an entirely different thing and I still have that idea in my head, even if it's not written, so something might feel incomplete because the other part was in the original chapter. But I did my best and I really hope you guys like it!
> 
> Also, as always, check the tags for trigger warnings, since most of them are in this chapter.

Cas was not going to open his eyes.

Nope.

The blanket he was laying under was too soft and too warm and too comfortable. His exposed nose was telling him that the air around him was cold, and that was not something he wanted to deal with.

Not even if he could smell bacon and his stomach was growling like he hadn't eaten in a year.

Not even if he could hear a coffee maker beeping cheerfully and he was addicted to caffeine.

Not even if he could hear Dean, Sam, and Anna laughing and he felt a tiny bit left out.

Not even if something had just pulled his blanket off and-

Cas shot up and was tackling the blanket thief before he fully processed what had just happened. Next thing he knew, he was wrapped in his blanket again and holding a very evil, devious, mean, terrorizing, blanket-stealing kitten.

Well, maybe cuddling was a better word for what he was doing, but only on purely business terms, since the kitten had stolen his source of warmth and therefore owed him at least five minutes of sharing body heat.

And he was definitely NOT petting the kitten, and it was definitely NOT purring like a little motor, and he was definitely NOT hugging it against his chest like an adorable, sweet, teddy bear.

Nope.

oOo

 

Dean walked into Bobby's living room to wake Cas up and found him sitting on the floor wrapped in a blanket and hugging a sleeping kitten.

Well.

"Hey, Cas?" Dean questioned, trying to keep the laughter out of his voice. "You up?"

Cas turned and glared at him. Dean knew not to take it personally. A glare was Cas' default morning look until he'd had his coffee.

"Dean, this fuzzy intruder stole my blanket."

Deans heart melted a tiny bit. Cas' messy hair, his half-closed eyes, his cute scratchy "morning voice", the tiny grey kitten curled up on his chest, the way he had gone slightly limp under that adorable pink and yellow quilt. It was all so endearing and sweet that Dean just wanted to freeze them that way forever. He promised himself that in the future, he would make sure that Cas got at least ten kittens.

"Dean?"

Dean realized that he had been staring at Cas far longer than was generally socially acceptable. Not that Cas would normally even notice that, but he'd probably also had a somewhat sappy expression on his face. Which was highly unusual for Dean.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry." Dean didn't bother to try to explain his behavior to Cas. Though they both skirted the topic somewhat, they both knew. They had gotten the tattoos when they met, after all. The patterns matched.

When they were both five years old. When the tattoos were both cheerful, bright colors. When the 'angel wing' design, as Cas called it, looked alive and joyful and happy.

Dean thought it looked more like handprints, personally. But it didn't really matter what the pattern was. The colors were what mattered.

Dean remembered the day he had woken up and realized that his soulmate tattoo was completely devoid of bright colors, full of blacks and dark greys and light greys and sadness. He'd been so confused. But when he asked Cas the next day, he'd just sighed and lifted his own shirt slightly, showing Dean the nearly-matching color scheme on his.

They didn't talk about it after that.

Seemed like that was all Dean knew about dealing with all that emotional, chick-flick stuff. Ignore it until it goes away.

The sound of purring crept into his consciousness, and Dean realized that the grey kitten had woken up and was now happily sitting on Cas' head. Cas had closed his eyes, a peaceful smile gracing his normally vaguely angry features.

Not that that wasn't hot, in it's own way.

After quickly snapping a picture with his phone of the scene (blackmail material, Dean figured, could never hurt), he quickly retrieved Cas' coffee from the kitchen. He debated pouring it on his head for a second, but that would probably hurt the kitten. So he gently set it down next to Cas and snatched the quilt away, fleeing the yells that followed, as well as a muffled curse (Cas had probably burned himself on the coffee). He laughed manically as he sprinted up the stairs, blanket trailing behind him like a pink-and-yellow cape.

Sam and Anna ambushed him as he triumphantly cleared the top step. He swore loudly as he fell flat on his face. "Sam!!! Anna!!! I thought you were on my side!!" he said. They didn't seem to think so. They did, however, take advantage of Dean's incapacitation to fling various colors of paint on him. Dean shut his eyes tightly, knowing from experience that getting that stuff in your eye could be hell. He tried to fight back, but the risk of paint getting in his eyes was too great to open them, and Dean was not great at fighting blind.

After a few minutes of that torture, the cold, wet, sticky, extremely smelly, paint onslaught ceased, and Dean cracked open his eyes. Sam and Anna weren't there. He wiped all the paint he could off his face and opened his eyes fully. He sat up and shivered. Bobby's naturally drafty and chilly house combined with the freezing paint (had they gotten it from the fridge?!) made for a shockingly cold and soggy feeling all over. He could feel paint in places that he didn't know you could get paint in. Ugh. He wrapped his sopping, brightly colored arms around his body and looked at his clothes.

Great.

As well as literally dripping paint, they were completely stained. There was no way he was getting this out. Thank the actual heavens that he'd taken his leather jacket off last night. He would never have forgiven Sam and Anna if they'd wrecked that.

He honestly wasn't sure what to do at this point. If he walked around, he'd just get paint everywhere. If he yelled for help, he'd be blatantly ignored. If he tried to take off the clothes here, well, he and Cas were soulmates, but they hadn't quite reached the "comfortable around each other's naked and paint-splattered body" stage yet. That basically left...

Surrender.

Or go down fighting.

Knowing them, Sam and Anna had simply retreated to get more paint cans or a different form of weapon. That meant they'd be back. That gave him two options. One, yell uncle as soon as they came into sight, ending this whole thing and giving Sam and Anna ultimate bragging rights. He'd tried that once before. It'd taught him many things, the most important being that his little brother was an expert at 'rubbing it in'. So, no. Plus, he had no traditional white flag to wave, not even his underwear, since they, too, were a haphazard renedition of the rainbow.

He was all for gay rights, but now was not the time.

So, that left one option.

Fight.

He'd have appreciated some backup, but he figured Cas was probably drinking his coffee and cuddling that kitten (he'd have to ask Bobby about that) and Bobby himself had already left for work.

Despite the fact that it was Saturday, Bobby still had work from 7 a.m. to 5 p.m. He'd often told Dean that running your own business was hard. Dean figured Singer Repairs and Auto could manage on its own for a single day, but whatever. Stopping Bobby from working all day would be like stopping his dad from drinking all day. Hopeless and fruitless.

So he was on his own. 

First things first, though. Dean's head was throbbing, and he was just a tiny bit nauseous. The paint fumes had to go.

Bobby would kill him for getting any more paint on his expensive carpet then there already was. Then again, he was sure Sam and Anna were preparing something extremely evil, and he was a sitting duck.

Screw the carpets.

As quietly as he could, Dean sprinted into the guest bedroom and shut and locked the door. He could feel his clothes sagging with the weight of the paint. Some of it had started to dry, and it was sticky and uncomfortable. Another shiver went through his body. He could feel goosebumps rising.

Goddamn it, Sammy.

He yanked the sopping t-shirt over his head. It was overly heavy with paint. He considered for a second, then walked over and dropped it in the sink. 

For a second, he stared at himself in the mirror. He almost didn't recognize the person looking back at him.

He was the skinniest he'd been in years. He saw this with a kind of detached pride. He could count his own ribs, and his arms were little more than sticks. 

Not that he'd purposely starved himself. There just wasn't a lot of food at his house, and what little they had, Sammy always got. School lunch was free for him, but he and Cas always just went to the library. The cafeteria was a minefield of bullies and jocks. Not worth it.

The hunger in his stomach meant Sam was safe, and that meant that Dean would gladly go a week without food. 

And then, of course, there were the scars.

Some were huge, random, and came with painful memories. A belt buckle that tore open his skin. A broken beer bottle thrown in anger. A slammed door that caught his finger. 

The rest were... harder to think about.

A lattice of lines covered his stomach. Scars on top of scars on top of cuts on top of scars. His hips, too, were covered. Dean knew that if you could see his legs, they were the same. His wrists as well, although those scars were nearly faded. He'd learned quickly that cuts there were too hard to hide.

These scars came with memories of sleepless nights, silver blades, and cleaning up blood so it wouldn't get on the sheets.

Of showers that stung and of bloodstained clothes because a cut reopened.

Nope, not thinking about that.

Dean turned away from the mirror as he wadded up his paint-soaked jeans.

Sometimes, a mirror can show things that you don't want to see. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I'm finally living up to my tags! Apologies if you feel something is inaccurate but this is from my own personal experiences so even if it's not right for you, it's accurate to me. Comments and kudos always make my day! Also, ohmygosh- over 500 hits! That's not the hugest milestone ever, but I'm very proud of myself now ^-^ So thank you all!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I know this chapter is late, and I'm very sorry. I had it mostly done yesterday but the ending kept coming out wrong. It actually still feels weird. I'm bad at endings. But I've done my best. Also, someone please tell me if my hit counts are glitching, because there's no way this little, odd fanfic of mine has over 700 hits. I was barely expecting to pass 100 when I first posted this. So thank you all so much for reading this story! Also, I'm changing the story description, as I most likely will do multiple times as this story finds it's feet, so to speak. As I'm sure you'll see. I hope you like this chapter!

Castiel could hear screeching upstairs. It sounded like Dean. And Sam and Anna, actually. That was probably important. He should probably go check it out to make sure nobody is hurt...

Nah. They'd be fine. Dean could handle himself against a ten-year-old and a twelve-year-old. Almost certainly.

Okay, probably.

Okay, maybe.

Okay, no, he couldn't, but after that blanket-stealing incident, Dean deserved whatever form of torture the two demons had cooked up for him. Cas had had to get up and get a new blanket and get comfortable agin and everything.

Maybe Cas cared about Dean a  _teeny_ bit more than he was letting on, but having already come to peace with the whole soulmates thing, they had basically just had a normal friendship. If they depended on each other a little more than normal friends,  that was just because of the circumstances of their practically symbiotic, as Sam had once called it (jeez, that kid was smart), relationship. After all, Dean usually referred to Cas as his platonic soulmate (although maybe that had something to do with the fact that he was usually trying to pick up girls at the time). But even so, Dean had said it with conviction. Cas had no doubt that that was how Dean saw it, and if Dean didn't want a...  _more profound_... bond, then Cas was certainly not going to initiate anything. He'd probably mess it up anyways.

The screams had stopped. He could hear pounding feet, then silence. Nothing was imminently about to happen. He most likely didn't need to do anything.

Cas snuggled back into the blanket. It was amazingly warm... It was so beautiful, too. It looked different than other quilts Cas had seen. It didn't have that familiar "mass-produced for rich people" vibe. It felt soft and warm and like a giant hug. Maybe it was homemade. Dean had mentioned, at 3 am when both had woken up, unused to their respective 'beds', that this was Bobby's house. And that Bobby had had a wife, once upon a time. Maybe she had made it. That would be cool. Cas imagined walking to bed and curling up under a warm, handmade quilt. Maybe with a sweet, soft, huggable, grey kitten like this one... or two or five. If all cats were this perfect, Cas would definitely have to consider getting some. 

Maybe if he got enough, he could cover himself in kittens. He wouldn't even need a blanket. Just purring kittens. It would be like a massage. One that had whiskers.

Cas smiled. He picked up his coffee and happily sipped it. It hadn't gotten cool yet, although it was no longer as scaldingly hot, which was a shame. That was Cas' favorite way to drink coffee. As black as his soul mark tattoos, as bitter as the feeling of Naomi's rejection and disappointment, and as hot as Dean.

 _Sappy, much?_ Sometimes, Cas just wanted to smack his brain until it shut up with it's typical weird-ass thoughts and started behaving normally. He was pretty sure that "bitter as my mother's disappointment and rejection" was not a normal simile to use describing coffee. His Speech teacher had told him about the same on their last assignment. According to the glaring red ink that dominated the page, among other things he'd done wrong, it was not acceptable to compare your teacher to a mutated blobfish with Type 2 diabetes and a mean streak. A fact that he really should have predicted before writing it.

Needless to say, he was getting a C- in that class. It would've been lower but he'd done so much extra credit he thought his hand would fall off, until his grade finally exited the D area and hit the C's.   
  
That was basically his strategy on passing all his classes. He didn't know how Dean stayed so solidly in the C to C+ area. He didn't even do any extra credit, just somehow managed to turn in somewhat acceptable work on the due date. Not Cas' strong point. Hell, he could barely read the board from his preferred seat in the back of the class. 

 _Wait..._ he realized.  _I have free time. I could do my homework right now! I could get on top of my work, and be productive, and turn over a new leaf, and-_

He almost did it. He really almost did. He was pumped and ready. But he didn't want to be mean and move the kitten, and he didn't want to have to get up again- it wasn't even nine a.m. yet, and he had already gotten up once to get this blanket. And he was way too cozy under the quilt, and he didn't really know his way around this house, and he didn't want to get lost or something stupid like that. And going upstairs could be dangerous. Cas knew better than to get in between Sam and Dean while they were fighting. He knew Anna had a massive crush on Sam, so she sided with him. Which was cute, in a way, but they weren't soulmates. Dean had told him that Sam saw Anna as a sweet little sister.

He'd warned Anna, and she'd snapped at him and ignored him for a full day. Getting between Anna and what she wanted was almost as dangerous as Sam and Dean fighting.

And going upstairs would be both. Not smart. So he'd stay downstairs.

Although he was kind of hungry...

He was prepared to ignore it for the sake of warmth, but after his stomach growled with the ferocity of a full-grown grizzly bear for the fourth time in as many minutes, Cas knew what he had to do.

Regretfully, he removed the  _absolutely adorable_ kitten from his head and set it down on the couch. For a second, he thought it had fallen asleep there, but it opened it's bright blue eyes and stared at him. He wanted to pick it up and never let it go and cuddle it... No. After he ate. He was NOT going to waver, even in the face of  _SO. MUCH. CUTENESS._ Not happening.

He steeled himself and yanked the blanket away. Nope. He muttered "cold cold cold cold cold cold cold cold cold" as he quickly wrapped the blanket's soft perfection around him again. Unwilling to risk the certain hypothermia of the air around him, Cas positioned it so he was completely wrapped in it, but mobile. As he turned around, wishing to the high heavens that he was wearing slippers or something to protect him from the ice-cold floor, he heard a soft noise. Was that...

It was, in fact. It was the kitten, and it was mewling softly and blinking its eyes slowly and it tried to stand up on the couch cushion, but the cushion was too unstable and soft and the poor little thing promptly fell over.

Cas felt his heart melt.

He shuffled back over to the couch-  _cold floor cold floor cold floor_ \- and slowly knelt-  _thank god he'd been wearing jeans last night and hadn't changed because this was already far too much skin touching the freezing floor as it was_ \- and gently picked up the kitten. He tried various positions, before realizing this would be a lot easier if he wasn't bent at a forty-five degree angle, so he stood up, cradling the kitten in his hands like it was made of glass. He pressed a kiss to it's tiny, perfect forehead (was it still a forehead if it was on a kitten? It was, right?) and first placed it on his head. Where it proceeded to lose it's balance and dig it's claws into his scalp to stay on.  _Ouch._ Cas quickly picked it back up, trying as hard as he could to not manhandle the fragile little thing. Right, so forehead wasn't an option. Shoulder? Cas put the kitten on his shoulder and made absolutely certain it was stable before moving his hands away cautiously. The kitten did not fall. Success!

Cas' stomach yelled at him again, reminding him that he was _really fucking hungry._ He took a tiny step. The kitten stayed firmly where it was. He took a less careful step. It didn't move. He took a few normal steps. The kitten stuck firm. Reasoning that it would probably be fine, he walked more or less normally towards what appeared to be a kitchen. It had a stove and a microwave. Cas figured it was a safe bet. Seeing as how he had little cooking experience beside what Dean had taught him, he thought that despite his cravings for bacon, pancakes, and eggs Benedict, the house would most likely burn down before that happened. Scrambled eggs were a lot safer.

If he could find the eggs.

At Dean's house, the eggs were kept in the fridge. That was probably where they were here, too.

Cas walked over as carefully as possible, not wanting to risk the kitten falling off. He opened the fridge (too fast, it seemed- the hinges squeaked in protest and the door felt like it was liable to fall off) and looked on the first shelf, then the second shelf, then the third. As well stocked as it was, the singular thing it seemed to be missing was eggs. 

He checked the freezer, although that seemed unlikely. There were officially no eggs there either. Which meant scrambled eggs weren't an option. What had everyone else had for breakfast anyway? He vaguely recalled smelling bacon cooking, but there didn't seem to be any left. Sam had probably eaten it all- Cas knew that that kid could and would eat nearly anything, in large quantities. Survival instinct, he supposed. But it meant that there was literally none left for him. And there were no eggs. And Cas only knew how to make eggs and boxed mac 'n' cheese. 

He didn't suppose that Bobby had any boxed mac 'n' cheese, right?...

No, he would puke if he ate that for breakfast. He had a sensitive stomach. And Dean would commit homicide if he knew that Cas had stooped to the levels of boxed food when there was absolutely loads of fresh, healthy ingredients right there, practically begging to be made into some fancy French dish or something. He personally didn't know, but Dean had a cookbook in his brain. 

And then there was a pride thing. What self-respecting teenager- nay,  _man_ \- would avoid making something gourmet and delicious just because he didn't actually know how? 

Pancakes were supposed to be easy. Cas didn't technically know how to make them, but that was a minor issue. They couldn't be that hard- he knew the basic ingredients, right? Flour, sugar, eggs, milk... that sounded way too simple, but he really had no clue. There obviously weren't any eggs, but he recalled Dean telling him once that eggs could be replaced with something... more milk, maybe? Butter? So sue him, he hadn't really been listening, but butter made sense. 

This was a huge mistake.

But goddamnit, he was  _going_ to have breakfast, and he was going to prove that he didn't need help. So Cas raided the entire kitchen until he found flour, sugar, butter, milk, baking soda, and baking powder, because most bread-y things had one of those two in them, right? He found a bowl that was probably too big, and consulted his internal chef, who seemed to think that two cups of flour seemed appropriate. He couldn't find a one-cup measuring cup, but he did find a quarter cup, so he just used eight of those. He did his best to adjust the quilt, which had started to slip, without disturbing the kitten, and added a quarter cup of sugar. He then added a cup of milk (spilling some in the process), and almost added half a  ~~~~stick of butter before realizing he should probably melt it first. Which sounded easy enough, until he heard a strange "pop" noise, looked into the microwave, and realized the butter had exploded.

How can you explode  _butter_ _?_

He wasted another full stick of butter before giving up and just adding the leftover butter from each failed attempt. It looked like it could be about a half a stick, anyway. Good enough.

Since he didn't know how much to add of the baking powder and soda, or even which one was part of the recipe, he just added a teaspoon of each. That couldn't hurt it. Most likely.

It didn't seem to have instantly formed together into batter, but Cas was very confident that it would, given enough stirring. So he located a whisk and began to stir. 

He zoned out while stirring and started thinking about the kitten on his shoulder, since he could feel her warmth seeping through the quilt still wrapped around him. He had unconsciously started calling it a her, so that's what it would be. She needed a name, right?

Well, she probably already had a name. This was Bobby's house, meaning this was almost certainly Bobby's kitten. So she already had a name. But Cas couldn't keep calling her "the kitten". 

He'd always been fond of the name Mary.

Wasn't that Dean's mom's name, though? Cas wasn't an expert here, but he knew that naming a kitten after your soulmate's dead mother was a bad idea.

Maria was similar to Mary. It sounded a bit familiar, though... that girl in twelfth grade who'd flirted with Dean in the library! Scratch Maria. No way. Okay, what other names were there in this world? His mind was blanking ridiculously. 

Theodora. Too odd.

Georgie. Okay, but too peppy.

Kitty. Too obvious.

Angelica. Too long.

Clara. Too  _nice_. This had to be perfect.

Dean had recently showed him  _The Little Mermaid_ and he'd liked the name Ariel, but Ariel had red hair and the kitten was gray.

Disney names were cute, though. What other names had he heard during their Disney binge?

Cinderella? Still too long. 

Snow White? Definitely not. This kitten was neither white as snow, black as ebony, or red as blood.

Lilo? Not quite right... But it planted another name in his head.

"Stitch!" Cas almost yelled, throwing both arms up in victory, before realizing what an absolutely terrible idea that was.

Chaos erupted as ropes of chunky and far-too-thin batter flew through the air and landed everywhere. The kitten- Stitch- jumped off of his shoulder just as the quilt, too, went flying. Stitch landed directly in what remained of the batter and laid upside down for about half a second before the falling quilt caught the bowl on the way down and pulled it over. Cas, fearing for Stitch's life, did the only thing he could think of and fell down as fast as he possibly could, and Stitch landed square on his face about half a second later. He let out a breath that was both in surprise and relief, then a slight moan of pain as his nose protested strongly. 

"Owwwwwwww," he said under his breath. He picked Stitch up and held her as he sat up. Despite being covered in something that kind-of, sort-of, not-really, resembled batter, she seemed fine, just confused. Looking around, he realized that the kitchen was a different story entirely.

There was some batter on the ceiling, some batter on the walls, some batter on the floor. The bowl had broken in two. The quilt was completely covered in the odd batter-like stuff. So was he. The whisk had rolled halfway across the kitchen. There was spilled milk on the floor. His favorite trench coat, which Dean had started calling his 'security blanket', was covered in flour, butter, and milk. And based on the way his nose was throbbing and the weird crunching noise he'd heard, it was probably broken.

Cas honestly didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Either seemed appropriate. Crying might be winning out, though. He had hit his head on the floor, and gotten a massive headache, which combined with his nose, really hurt. He was tired. He was cold. He was in an unfamiliar house and he'd just ruined some guy named Bobby's kitchen. For all he knew, Bobby was like Naomi, or John Winchester. Dean had claimed he was trustworthy, but a familiar fear was building in his stomach very quickly. His breathing started getting heavier and faster, but before he could have a full-blown panic attack, something caught his eye.

There was a poster on the wall, bright red. It said, in ridiculously fancy silver font, "Never put a sock in a toaster." It wasn't exactly the funniest thing Cas had ever seen, but the entire situation just seemed so surreal. The mess, it was comprehendible. But for some reason, Cas' sleep-deprived, weird, crazy, self-hating mind just didn't believe that any human being would choose to put that on their wall. It was completely ridiculous. And it was the straw that broke the camel's back, sending Cas into full-blown hysteria. His chest actually ached with laughter. His eyes were leaking tears. He almost fell over. After at least thirty seconds of this, Stitch began meowing, as though she was laughing too. Which only made Cas laugh harder. Upstairs, Sam yelled "Keep it down, Cas! We're busy!" That brought images of his ten-year-old sister wearing a suit and tie, carrying a briefcase and filing paperwork. Which also didn't help.

Cas laughed for over three minutes straight before he realized that his nose was definitely broken. It hurt waaaaaay too much to be normal. He shifted Stitch to the floor and put up one hand to his face. 

His nose was crooked. Great.

Not wanting to deal with the messy kitchen, the dirty kitten, the seeming war going on upstairs, the ruined trench coat, or the apparent broken nose, Cas set Stitch down, closed his eyes, shuffled to where he thought the pantry was (bumping into a wall and a chair on the way), and opened his eyes just enough to look inside. Locating a box of chocolate chip cookies, Cas retreated back to his couch to eat his new and improved breakfast.

Dean was going to murder him, but these were totally worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, random question today. Kind of personal. I'm bi, and there's this girl I have a crush on. Since I'm also female, there is obviously a pretty high chance she will not be on board with that. I'm 99% sure I'm never going to tell her, like, ever, but I was curious if anyone had any stories like that that would either persuade me or dissuade me from telling her? I'm sure some of you know what this feels like. I saw this post that said "I often confuse my gaydar with my overwhelming please-be-gaydar." That's basically where I am right now :P. So, thoughts on that? Should I tell her? Should I stay silent forever? I don't want to ruin our friendship, and I'm not really out to her yet... Actually, I've basically just convinced myself against telling her. But if anyone has a good reason why I should, I'd like to hear it nonetheless. 
> 
> Ignoring all that personal stuff, thanks for reading! Comments and kudos always make me smile! And constructive criticism is always definitely appreciated. Okay, bye! See you next week!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! It is I, the slowest writer in the world!!! 
> 
> Yeah, I'm a terrible person. Don't hurt me. If anyone is still here, anyway. To the like two people who are going to see this chapter, hi! I'm back!
> 
> It was a crazy two weeks, though. My team won a soccer tournament, I heard a horse's heartbeat, learned how to splint a broken leg, memorized every single word in The Judge by Twenty One Pilots, learned how to play Let It Go on my flute (not by choice, it was forced :P) and like fifty trillion other things too numerous to mention. I'm quite frankly exhausted and it's 1 am and I'm so done with life but I had to post this chapter. Which, heads up, isn't proof read. I'm too tired. Whoops.
> 
> I'm too tired for any specific trigger warnings so just check the tags I think.

Dean slammed the door behind him and quickly locked it. Half a second later, the door began to shake with the force of Sam's and Anna's pounding. Anna screeched "LET US OUT!!!" with the force of an actual banshee. Dean laughed. "Suck it!" He was tempted to open the door again just to see their faces, but that would probably be a big mistake. So he contented himself with listening to Sam let loose with every swear word and bad name that he knew. He had an impressive arsenal for a twelve-year-old. After a few minutes of that, with Anna occasionally piping in with various creative insults ("You annoying green crayon!" was memorable, along with "Go stab yourself with a knitting needle!"), the two quieted down, hopefully to fall asleep or something equally peaceful. Dean began to walk away from the tiny bathroom he'd just locked them in, but the way they seemed to have given up so quickly was worrying. Dean knew Anna could probably keep that up for a solid thirty minutes. There was no way in hell that either her or Sam would just give up so fast. He heard the whispering and slowly crept back towards the door, frowning in concentration. He pressed up against the door and still couldn't quite make out what they were saying, although he thought for a second that he heard Sam say "bobby pin". What could Sam want with...

Oh, crap. Leave it to Dean to forget that of course, he and Sammy could both pick locks.  _Thanks, Dad._ Dean sprinted away and looked around wildly. That couch was too big. That rocking chair, too small. Would that love seat work? It would have to. Dean braced against its back, pushed, and... nothing happened. The stupid thing must've weighed two hundred pounds. And the rug it was on wasn't the easiest thing to push stuff off of. Okay... the coffee table could work. Dean shoved it over to the door and held it there. Then he realized that if he could push it over here, Sam and Anna combined could most definitely also push it. So he went back over and pushed over the rocking chair too- every little thing helps, right? Then the recliner. Then the end table. He could hear the lock jiggling around as he pushed the bookcase over, and a muffled-yet-triumphant "Yeah!" as it clicked. Dean watched, grinning, as the doorknob turned. A quiet "what the actual-" came through the door before Sam groaned and yelled, maybe a little bit louder than he needed to, "Dean, let us  _out_!" There was a few seconds of whispering and a tiny giggle before Sam continued "We'll surrender, we'll give up! You won! Now let us out so we can- um, so we can  _surrender properly_!" The last part was shaky with what sounded like surpassed laughter.

Dean knew better than to trust a laughing preteen.

"Nope! Sorry, Sammy, but I wasn't born yesterday, so you and Anna have fun in there! I'll be out here... in the wide-open living room... not cramped at all... able to go anywhere I want... totally free... without you two idiots." Dean walked away, calling back "Freedom!!!" from various places in the room to demonstrate his overwhelming liberty. Just to really torture Sam, he almost hoped that Anna would take advantage of the small space and start kissing him or something. If she wasn't ten, of course. 

Dean actually did need to check on something, though. He'd heard some rather violent sounding crashing coming from the kitchen, but he'd dismissed it as unimportant because at the moment he'd been sliding down the staircase railing at top speed to get away from Anna, who had been holding a metal candlestick that could probably kill a person better than most poisons. Now that he wasn't escaping certain death, though, they seemed a little more pertinent. After all, Cas was the only other one home, and Cas could probably burn water without a stove. He had a spectacular talent for messing up the simplest of dishes, which, combined with his misguided ambition and optimism, meant that Dean should seriously consider locking Cas out of kitchens for everybody's safety.

But Dean hadn't locked him out of the kitchen, and oh god, Cas could have done anything in there.

Dean entered the kitchen and breathed a possibly premature sigh of relief. Although there was stuff literally everywhere, including something resembling a lemonade-worm-concrete smoothie coating the ceiling, there was no blood, and no dead Castiel or kitten laying on the floor. So he probably didn't need to call 911.   
  
He called "Hey, Cas?"

A voice came from the next room, where Cas had been sleeping. "Yes, Dean?"

"What the  _hell_ _?_ " 

"I guess you've found the pancakes."

"Castiel James Novak, this is  _not_ pancakes. This is- this is-" Words failed him. "This is- actually, I don't even  _know_ what this is. What did you  _do?_ "

"I mixed the flour and the sugar and the milk and the butter and the-"

"Actually, don't tell me, I'll probably blow a fuse. Get in here and help me clean this freaking mess and I'll get you some food."

Some shifting sounds came from inside the other room, as Dean assumed Cas was getting up, and then "I already had breakfast, actually."

Dean winced. He honestly wouldn't put it past Cas to eat plain sugar with a spoon, and him feeding himself was a recipe for obesity, diabetes, and death. Once, he'd decided that all he wanted to eat was McDonald's cheeseburgers, and he had been dedicated. Dean had lost count after the third week, and he believed the burger count reached the low hundreds at least. If Naomi was the type of parent who ever paid attention to her kids when she wasn't screaming at them, she would have hopefully stopped him, but Dean was pretty sure she hadn't even noticed. According to Cas, despite their ornate dining room and actual professional chef, the family only ate together on major holidays and when they had guests.

Dean rubbed his eyes. "You know, I don't actually want to know what shit you ate. Just hurry up!"

Cas shuffled into the kitchen, with a blanket wrapped around his body, a kitten perched on his shoulder, crumbs all over his face, dried 'pancake' in his signature bedhead/sex hair, and melted chocolate smeared on his lips. Dean short-circuited for half a second-it was just so goddamn  _cute._ His stupid brain instantly started imagining licking the chocolate off of those beautiful lips, then-  _not now, not now, not now_. Dean could think about all  _that_ later. Right now, he needed to focus on something else and clean this dumb kitchen. He and Cas locked eyes for a second, and all of a sudden it was like Cas knew what he'd been thinking. Probably paranoia, but the silence was painful.  _Say something, idiot. Say anything-_

"You look like a homeless person, you know that?" Dean said, laughing. If it sounded slightly forced, Cas didn't seem to notice. 

"Do we have to clean this up? I have homework..." Cas looked like he was trying to make puppy dog eyes at Dean, but he looked tired still- it always seemed like Cas was in some degree of falling asleep- and he just ended up looking deranged. It was cute, in a psychopathic sort of way.

"Cas, you never do your homework unless it's Sunday night or Monday morning. Also, unless you've forgotten, your homework is probably still at your house? Just a guess. So yes, we're cleaning this up, because it's almost noon thirty, and then  _I_ am going to find a mildly healthy, nutritious lunch for- us." Dean stumbled for a second. He hated lying to Cas, especially since Cas had a sixth sense for knowing when Dean wasn't telling the truth. Now, Cas looked at him for a second in that weird way of his, like he was memorizing him.

"Fine, but Stitch is hungry. What do you feed kittens?"

Dean looked at the gray kitten in despair. "Cas, I'm pretty sure that's Bobby's kitten, it already has a name- never mind. I think they can drink milk, right? If you haven't used it all, there's some in the fridge. Pour it a bowl." Cas did his weird shuffle-walk over to the refrigerator, where he pulled the milk carton out and then stood there helplessly. Dean pointed at the corner cupboard wordlessly. Cas set the milk down and slowly moved over that way. Dean smiled- Cas was so cute- and jogged upstairs to find some towels. He mentally apologized to Bobby for the shitload of laundry he was going to have, and began hauling the towels down the stairs. He stopped halfway as a wave of dizziness swept over him.  _Ugh._ He grabbed the railing to stabilize himself. Maybe he  _should_ eat something for lunch. A salad or something... nah. If Dean ate anything, it would be real food, not some shitty vegan rabbit food. The only person he knew that liked that stuff was Sammy, and Dean wasn't sure that Sam liked it so much as he wanted to annoy Dean. 

He walked into the kitchen again holding three towels. Cas was kneeling on the floor, watching the kitten- Stitch, apparently- drink the milk with a satisfied look on his face. Dean snorted. "Cas, we're cleaning now, remember? If you weren't so cute, I'd kill you, I swear." Cas looked at him like he had just said that the Earth was flat.

"Just give me a towel," Cas said. He held out a hand as he stood up. Dean tossed him one and got down on the floor, scrubbing. He knew that this was probably the wrong way to clean, but whatever. He'd grown up using towels to clean nearly everything, from his dad's puke to Sam's dead fish, that one time. 

As they both scrubbed the floor, which wasn't really actually doing anything, Dean realized something. "Cas, I stole one blanket from you, right? And I guess your second one is here?" He nodded at a quilt that was crumpled on the floor next to him. "Does that mean you're currently on your third blanket?" 

"I need warmth to live. These blankets provide warmth. It makes sense." Dean could tell that Cas was probably smiling. He loved it when he could make Cas smile.

They returned to silently scrubbing. Cas' voice broke the silence. "So, Dean, what did you have for breakfast?" It was such a simple question. Cas' voice was so passive. Too passive. The question behind it was obvious.  _Did_ you eat breakfast? 

Dean frowned at the one pitch of floor he was simply rubbing, over and over. He knew that Cas knew that, of course, he hadn't. He didn't really want to say it out loud. 

"You know, I don't think I ate breakfast." He managed to keep his voice neutral and steady. It wasn't healthy to skate the issue like this, he knew that. But who really wanted to be the hypocrite to call the other out on their problems? Sure, Dean wasn't eating. Sure, Dean was cutting. But Cas wasn't a paragon of mental health himself, Dean knew. He wouldn't be able to outright talk about Dean without Dean outright talking about Cas. And they both preferred this shadow-dance, this ignoration of the elephant in the room.

Dean decided to retaliate. "What did you have for breakfast?" He knew it would probably be fairly unhealthy. He wasn't sure whether he hoped more that it hadn't been pure sugar or that it hadn't been puked out afterwards.

"Cookies." 

Dean tried to think of how to ask what he wanted to. How do you say "Have you puked it up?" without actually saying that exact sentence?

"Have you been to the bathroom lately?" Not the best. Definitely not the best.

"No, not since before breakfast." Cas' voice broke a tiny bit on the end. He sounded sad about it. Dean knew what that meant. He and Cas were soulmates, for fuck's sakes. If he had to spell it out, he'd say Cas had binged on cookies, then hadn't thrown them up, and now he was regretting it.

Dean wanted to go cuddle with Cas until he felt better, until they both felt better, but he thought that might acknowledge a few too many emotions for either of their comforts. So he stayed where he was, and scrubbed, and pretended he didn't hear Cas' jagged, near-tears breathing, and stared at the floor as it got blurrier and blurrier, until a single teardrop fell and landed on the floor. It was followed by more.

They cried on opposite ends of the kitchen and pretended everything was okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I really hope you liked this chapter. I would seriously appreciate any constructive criticism you have, and I would 100% not be offended even if it's a little harsh, because I really do want to improve my writing.
> 
> Also, an update on the situation with the girl I have a crush on: what I was GOING to do was tell her I'm bi, wait for her reaction, and then judge if she'd be okay with me having a crush on her or even possible like me back (!!!!!), buuuuuuuut...
> 
> I told one of my best friends about it first and she decided that the best solution was for her to tell this girl IMMEDIATELY and WITHOUT CONSULTING ME. Like, AT ALL. She wants to help, I think, she just doesn't know how... ughhhhhhhh, I'm not sure if I'm mad at myself for telling her or mad at her for not taking my wishes here into consideration.
> 
> According to this friend, she was fine with it and she said she wanted to get to know me better and then she would think about it bc she would even possibly be open to dating if she likes me. But she didn't say any of this to my face, she told it to my friend, who told me, along with about twenty other people, and now I am honestly too scared to talk to her. And literally every single other person I even vaguely am friends with knew about this before I did. 
> 
> I'm crying AGAIN now. I know it doesn't really matter in the long run, but I just feel kind of betrayed by my friend. Whatever. I'm sorry for dumping my weird stuff on you guys- you're like my free therapy :). 
> 
> Thank you for reading! See you next week!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! You know, technically, it's actually Thursday, but I'm going to say this wasn't late... I need to figure out a way to manage my time better :P. I'm wide awake though, so I'll be on Tumblr/knitting for the next three hours, probably. For anyone who watches AmazingPhil, you'll understand that basically, my life is one long "A Sleepless Night With Phil" :D. I hope you enjoy this chapter, which I do realize escalated pretty quickly from the last chapter... oops. Just be thankful I haven't accidentally killed anyone yet, I have a bad habit of doing that :P. Okay, now, enjoy!

Castiel wasn't sure whether he should laugh, cry, or just run. This was completely overwhelming. He could deal with a screaming Naomi, or a completely absent Chuck, or a failed attempt at pancakes, or late homework. These were all familiar, awful, but familiar, events in his life. This, on the other hand, was a complete and utter nightmare. This was unfamiliar territory. He felt frozen in place.

After all, he wasn't really used to dealing with fire.

Next to him, Dean was most likely experiencing a nearly identical thought process. He could hear Dean's ragged breathing, although it was hard over the sound of his heartbeat pounding in his ears. 

It was hard to even form a coherent thought past the shock and terror flooding his brain. He managed to gasp out "We- we need to get out, we need to get out  **now**!" He wasn't really sure what to do after that- run? Grab Dean, then run? Hold Stitch tighter, then run? Throw water at the fire? Call 911? They all sounded reasonable. Especially running, as the fire spread, reaching the wood floor in the next room. The crackling was loud, and the smoke smelled acrid and all of a sudden, Cas really, really just wanted to hide, or to pinch himself and realize he was dreaming, or to just generally not have to deal with this mess. But the logical part of him knew it was definitely a better idea to do something that involved rescue and escape. Something like clutching Stitch to his chest and grabbing Dean's limp hand with his free one and pulling them all out of the kitchen. So that's what he did, throwing back a glance to watch the fire-melted plastic drip down and hit the floor. Then he realized that they were most definitely missing somebody- somebodies, really- who really couldn't be abandoned in a burning building.

Cas stopped abruptly and turned to Dean, who looked like someone had just taken his brains and made mashed potatoes with them. Not useful, and they really needed useful right then. Cas slapped him, but Dean just blinked and swayed a bit. Cas said, as fast as the words could tumble out of his mouth, "Anna and Sam! This is  _really fucking important_ , I need you to help me here! Sam and Anna!  _Dean!_ " That didn't seem to help either. Cas shook Dean, but he wasn't responding, and this was really desperate, and in his head, Dean's laughing voice echoed,  _"If you ever need to wake me up fast, just kiss me, or drop a stack of bricks on me, they'll work equally well."_ He'd been joking at the time, of course, but bricks were in short supply, and desperate times call for desperate measures. 

Cas quickly smashed his face up against Dean's. It was nothing like he'd ever imagined their actual first kiss to be, and it was unromantic, and weird, and borderline creepy, and Dean didn't move for a second, before he stiffened and jumped away. "The bathroom! They're in there, they're..." Horror blossomed on Dean's face. "I locked them in the fucking bathroom! Cas, I- Cas, we need to go get them-" He cut himself off by yanking Cas unceremoniously through the living room that they were standing in, around a corner, and-

Oh no.

Fuck.

Cas screamed. The bathroom door was blocked by furniture- lots of furniture, from, Cas assumed, the unusually empty living room. It was all big and it looked heavy and it looked like Anna and Sam had probably been pushing on the door from inside, but they had only made abut five inches of progress. Fire spread fast, he knew, and his ten-year-old sister was trapped in a bathroom by enough furniture and  _stuff_ to fill Dean's (admittedly small) bedroom. 

He yanked on the bookshelf closest to him with one arm and it didn't move for a second and the panic that was trying to overtake his system spiked and then... it swayed and began to fall. Cas yelped, jumping backwards, and almost tripped, but Dean caught him. The  _thud_ as the bookshelf hit the floor and dozens upon dozens of books fell out was not reassuring in any way.

"It's fine, we're fine, we can move this stuff, Cas, help out here!" Dean had apparently fully snapped out of it and was already moving to pull away a rocking chair, which he set off to the side. Cas looked around frantically for a second, then set Stitch down and watched the tiny kitten as he helped Dean with a small table, and then Sam's voice came out of the bathroom.

"Cas, Dean, what are you doing? What's going on?" His voice was tinged with worry, borderline panicky. Cas guessed he could hear the crackling of the fire and the way the house was kind of creaking and trembling and the way they'd been freaking out themselves.

Dean and Cas pulled away a recliner and tried to answer at the same time. "There's a-" "Look, we don't need to-" They glanced at each other, and Dean opened his mouth to continue while they pulled away the last thing, a coffee table. 

"Fire, there's a fire. We need to leave." Dean's voice was deadly serious, and Sam and Anna must have noticed that, because they didn't waste a second in crowding out of the small bathroom, pushing past Cas and Dean to sprint towards the front door. Cas knelt, picked up Stitch, who'd been edging away like she wasn't quite sure whether to run or fall asleep, and pushed Dean in front of him, muttering "Go, go, come on, move.". He followed Dean blindly, not watching anything but Dean's back. The crackling was very loud, and very close, and the air, which had been slowly warming, was uncomfortably hot. Cas blinked rapidly, his eyes stinging from the smoke. His vision was blurry. But the front door was right there. Cas practically fell on top of Dean trying to get out, because all of a sudden, breathing was getting harder, and he was coughing and choking on the smoke-filled air, and he stumbled out into the clearer air and immediately hit the ground, but he was too close to the house and he knew it. But his legs were like jelly, and he honestly wasn't sure he could stand and walk while supporting Stitch. So he crawled away as fast as he could, until he was next to the road.

Hopefully that was far enough, because he was physically unable to move another inch. He stared up at the sky for a second, then closed his stinging eyes. He felt Stitch on his chest, he felt her curl up and lay down, which would have been adorable, except he could also feel her shaking like a leaf. Poor little thing.

Next to him, Sam was coughing his lungs up. It sounded painful, almost as painful as the hacking and wheezing Cas himself was doing. He heard another, less deep and less severe cough, probably from Anna, who'd gotten out first. Dean's coughing was more of a dry rasping, really. He could hear people talking, too. A woman was saying "Oh my god, oh my god," over and over. A man seemed to be talking on the phone... to 911, probably. He really didn't want to move, but he forced his eyes open. He attempted to swallow to soothe his throat (which didn't work), then whispered to Sam "We should probably go."

Sam looked at him with irritated red eyes. A tear was tracking down his cheek, probably from the violent coughing Sam was doing. He barely managed a "Why?". Cas didn't really feel like explaining right then, and his throat agreed, so he just narrowed his eyes in what he hoped was a "Do it or die" sort of expression, and crawled to Dean. "Dean, we have to go-" Cas choked out before tearing up his poor throat some more. A glass of water sounded really, really great right about then.

Dean managed to get control of his breathing, and whispered hoarsely "You're right. My house." Cas hoped John Winchester wasn't home, but they didn't have a lot of other options. He made a thumbs up with the hand that wasn't still holding Stitch. He briefly wondered why Stitch wasn't making tiny little kitten choking noises herself, before remembering that he'd been pressing her face against his shirt. Although most likely short on oxygen herself, it was a heck of a lot better than the alternative, so that worked. She was still shaking, and whimpering a bit. Having no idea how to soothe a kitten, Cas just hugged her tighter and kissed her smoke-smelling fur with his dry, cracked lips. It didn't seem to do much.

Cas stood up, painfully, like an old man, and walked the three steps to Anna. Not wanting to kneel, he said "Anna!" as loudly as he could manage (not that loud) and stifled the coughing fit that attempted to follow. Anna opened her eyes and looked at Castiel, and it hurt. The fear and panic in her eyes physically hurt him. She was ten, and she was dealing with this crap. Not exactly the apple-pie life most parents wanted for their kids.

But that was an emotional scar that he'd already decided was best left to work out in therapy in fifteen years, so he ignored the sudden sadness and focused on Anna. Behind him, he could tell Dean was getting Sam up. Cas said "Anna, get up. We have to go to Sam's house now, okay?" 

Anna just nodded. She looked too drained to say anything. Knowing Anna, she was probably taking all these negative feelings and shoving them into a box and locking it and throwing it into a vault, to be ignored until they came bursting out in the form of a crying fit. Whatever. Cas kind of just wanted to cry, because all of a sudden it hit him. Anna could have just died. He could have just lost his only sister. And she was safe, right in front of him. Like God's one, singular, crappy, perfect gift to him.  _Hey, the rest of your life is gonna COMPLETELY suck, and I mean COMPLETELY, but when you literally BURN DOWN your soulmate's father figure's house (have fun with that overwhelming guilt), at least the one sibling who actually loves you in return will live. Aren't I awesome?_

A hand tapped his shoulder. A voice, overly sweet and kind, like it was talking to a wild animal, said "Excuse me, honey, you came from that house?" He turned as the owner of the voice, an artificially tanned, artificially blonde woman, gestured at the small house which was now engulfed in flames. "Yes, but I'm- we're- fine, we're going to someone else's house."

Cas thanked his lucky stars that the house was both somewhat separate from the other houses and that it was pretty dang far away from the road, so they could watch it burn without also burning themselves. 

"Now, I don't know that that's such a great idea, sweetie. The paramedics are coming, and they'll deal with you and your siblings."  
  
Cas liked that she thought they were all siblings. In a way, he guessed, they were.

"That's alright, really, we just have to go, like, now. Thanks for your concern, but we've got this."

The woman looked at him like he had gone crazy, then shrugged and said "Fine, your call, but I'm giving your description to the officials. They'll find you and make sure you're- say, where are your parents?"

Cas turned away, thankful that he was probably such a mess that they'd never find him off of this description. He grabbed Anna's hand and rushed to follow Sam and Dean, who had almost made it to the street corner, ignoring her calls after him. They walked in silence. As they walked, the meaning of what had just happened. They'd- he'd- burned down Bobby's house. He'd trusted them, and they had literally burned down his house and all of his possessions and stolen his kitten.  _Wow, Cas. You're a great person, you_ _know that?_ The guilt formed a little ball of dread in his stomach and began to grow and eat away at him. It was making him nauseous. Well, that or the smoke. Either way, it was honestly a relief when Cas puked up every single cookie he'd eaten for breakfast, five minutes later. The other three stared at him, Anna muttering "Gross!" under her breath and letting go of his hand in disgust. Breathing hard and bent over, Cas closed his eyes and groaned. This just got better and better, huh. He straightened up and handed poor Stitch to Dean with as much dignity as he could muster. He attempted to communicate that they should keep going- "We can-"  _gag_ "-go, don't let me-"  _choking noise_ "-slow us down,"  _cough_. They seemed to get the message and turned away again without saying anything. They kept walking.

Cas didn't really mind. Puking sucked, yeah. But at least this way, he didn't have to shove his fingers down his throat, and that counted as a major win. The most twisted blessing in disguise ever.

Mentally apologizing to whoever's perfectly maintained lawn he'd just puked on, he trudged on.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! So, this week I have a question which will hopefully benefit me in the future, it's a two-parter :P. 1. What do you do when you can't sleep to stay busy? 2. How do you get to sleep when you can't sleep? These are both very major issues in my life :D. I mostly just go on Tumblr or knit or eat, but I do have a really stupid habit of walking my dog at like 1 am. Not that far, just around the block really, and she's a big dog, but it's something I should really stop. It's just so nice out at night, you know? You can see all the stars and the moon if it's a clear night, and in the summer like now, there are loads of fireflies, and it's so quiet, and peaceful, and alone, and empty, and surreal. As a massive introvert, aloneness and quiet are two things I seek out often :). So, please comment with your responses, if only to stop me from becoming the person on the first five minutes of Supernatural :P. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I'll see you all next week! Bye!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly am so filled with guilt right now. I haven't updated in TWO WEEKS. That is a really long time. But please don't hate me, because I have put effort into this chapter and it's only one day late. I've had like zero computer access though. I really should have seen this coming. Oh well. Also, I technically had this done yesterday, but AO3 hates me and wouldn’t let me post the chapter so I had to go quick save a copy somewhere else and then it deleted everything I had written so let’s have a big round of applause for copy and paste, and google drive!!!
> 
> Also, I have OVER 1,000 HITS!!!!! *screeches in excitement* *flails and accidentally knocks over vase* Seriously, though, I am crazy excited right now. I'm going to celebrate by watching some Supernatural! So anyway, I hope you enjoy! Check the tags for warnings, but as far as I can tell this one should be okay.

Dean put his head in his hands. He had literally no clue how to deal with this. But he was always the one in charge, and Sam and Anna were looking at him with smoke-stained faces and watery eyes, and Cas was petting Stitch and breathing like an asthmatic. So this responsibility fell to him.

Fires weren't real, damn it. This wasn't a thing that could happen to him. Fires happened to people in news stories and GoFundMe webpages. And what really didn't happen was somehow managing to burn down someone else's house. How would they even tell Bobby? None of them had cell phones- well, Cas had one, but it was most likely a little pile of melted plastic now and that was not helpful.

"So." Not a great start. "I'm going to be really, really honest here. I have absolutely no idea what we need to do. So, give me some ideas. Anyone?"

Sam spoke up. "Dad left a note saying he'll be gone for a few days again. So we're okay to stay here."

He was right, but the house was barely big enough for a drunk and two kids who were barely home. And the basement, attic, and John's room would be off-limits, too. Dean was pretty sure it wasn't a good idea to keep four kids in a living room full of beer bottles, a kitchen that was barely functional, a single bathroom, and one tiny bedroom. 

"For now, yeah. But we do need to get you two home," he said, looking at Cas specifically, trying to get his attention. Not that it was working. Cas was staring off into space like nobody's business. Dean sighed and said "Cas?" No answer. He repeated "Cas?", a little louder. Cas started. "Um, yes?"

"I was saying that one of the things we need to do is get you and Anna home. You can't stay at our house overnight. Okay?"

Cas looked like he probably hadn't absorbed any of that, but he was nodding, so Dean went on. 

"Okay, we need a way to talk to Bobby. Our house phone is down-" he looked to Sam for confirmation. He nodded. "-so we can't use that. Cas, you guys have like four landlines, right? Can we use one? Do you think Naomi will be a problem?" Cas blinked. 

"No, I don't think-" Cas glanced down at Stitch for a second. Dean could hear how shaky his breathing was. "As far as I know, she left this morning on a business trip." 

"Well, at least that's one thing we got. We won't have John or Naomi to worry about for at least a few days. And you all know-" Dean made eye contact with Sam, Cas, and Anna individually, holding Anna's stare the longest. As the youngest, she was the biggest risk. "-you all know that we can't tell anyone about this. Bobby'll make up a story if I ask him to, say he left the stove on or something. If anyone else knows, it'll get around. Maybe John won't hear it. You know Naomi will. We can't take that risk. Got it?" 

"Yeah." "Mm-hm." "Yes." The other three responded. Then Anna spoke. "Dean, what about that cat?" She was looking at Stitch. "It's really cute, but it's not ours."

"Yeah. I don't know, really. I think it's Bobby's, but he never mentioned having a kitten, so it might be a stray- Cas, where'd you find Stitch again?" 

"She stole my blanket."

"Could you- could you elaborate on that, maybe?" Dean wasn't really sure where this was heading. He hoped that Cas could keep the kitten- having seen Cas have panic attacks before, he knew that he was probably close to one right now. Stitch seemed to be grounding him, keeping him calmer. Therapy dogs were a thing, right? Therapy cats probably were too. It made sense. But if it was Bobby's...

Cas' eyes were unfocused for a second before he replied. "I was cold. She stole my blanket."

Well, that really cleared things up.  
Dean tried to be gentle. "Cas, was there anything that made you think that she was Bobby's? Or not Bobby's?"

Cas stroked Stitch as he replied. "We were in Bobby's house. So she's probably Bobby's cat."

Apparently Cas wasn't going to be much help. "Okay, I guess we'll ask Bobby when we call him." Dean thought for a second before his eyes fell on his own hands, dirty and red. It occurred to him how much he wanted a shower. 

"Here's a plan, since Naomi is out of town. We can head over to your place and everyone can get cleaned up. We can call Bobby. Then we can figure this out. Okay?"

Cas and Sam agreed and stood up. Dean stood up with them, but Anna stayed on the floor. 

"Hey, Anna? You coming or what?" Dean didn't know what she was doing until a tear made its way down her face. Her lower lip was trembling. Her voice was shaky, like she was barely holding it together.   
"I'm- I'm sorry. I can't walk any farther. My feet hurt-" a small sob escaped her mouth "-I'm really really sorry! I'm just too tired." 

Dean had seen this scene a million times before with Sammy. Anna was exhausted and scared and emotional. Of course she was going to be. And kids in that situation will snap at the slightest thing. It might not even make sense, hell, it definitely won't make sense. Of course she couldn't help being tired. He said as much to her, and she shook her head and really started wailing. 

"I'm just holding you guys back. I'm too slow." This was said at the rate of one word per three ragged breaths. 

"Anna, in case you haven't noticed, Cas is holding a live kitten. I think Stitch is going to slow us down more than you, if anything. But you haven't, and none of this is even your fault. I can hold you if you're really tired. Okay?" It suddenly occurred to Dean that this conversation would be a lot weirder if they weren't all essentially siblings. 

"No, I'll be okay." Anna was calming down. Her frantic breaths were slowing, and she'd stopped crying altogether. "But can I- can I hold the kitten? Stitch, you said?"

Castiel wordlessly handed over the gray kitten. Anna snuggled her against her face. Dean wasn't sure whether to feel glad that Anna was calmed down or guilty because the poor cat was being treated like a hot potato. This was probably even more terrifying for her than for them. At least they had a basic understanding of what was going on. 

"Thanks, Cas." Anna stood up and pressed against her brother's side. Dean understood that. They were blood. That would be more comforting than any pep talk Dean could ever give.

"Alright, guys," Dean said, as he stepped out of his room and towards the stairs. "Last hike of the day, I promise. Cas, can me and Sam crash at your house?"

Cas' blue eyes met Dean's. "Of course."

With sore feet, they started the (thankfully short) walk to the Novak mansion. But the mood was lighter. Sam and Anna whispered to each other, smiling and even occasionally laughing. And as Dean focused on the ground, wishing he could bounce back as quickly as them, he felt Cas’ hand slip into his, and a smile crossed his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Okay, so a few days ago I saw Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2, and yesterday I saw the newest Wonder Woman, and I am seriously still just stuck in movie mode :P I think Guardians of the Galaxy was way better than Wonder Woman, personal opinion of course, but oh my god it was HILARIOUS I could not stop laughing! If anyone else has seen it, or Wonder Woman, I'd like to know what your favorite scene was! (mine from GOTGV2 was the scene w/ Baby Groot and the severed toe and WW was the part where Diana was trying on all the different outfits). If you haven't seen either movie, then tell me what your favorite movie is and your favorite scene from that movie! Kudos and comments always make my day, thank you for reading, and see you (hopefully) next week!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! A chapter on time and NOT posted at 1 am! It's a miracle!
> 
> I had fun writing this chapter, more than I usually do. I hope it's also as fun to read! I can't really remember what I usually put here :P So enjoy this chapter, I guess!

Cas stared at the ceiling of his room. Beside him, he felt the warmth of one tiny gray kitten, now officially his. Bobby had something along the lines of "since I no longer have a house to keep her in, you kids can take her". Which made Cas feel a lot guiltier than he already did. But he'd been right about Stitch being a girl, anyway.

He wanted to sleep. He really did. He was exhausted. But every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was flames. 

He hadn't even noticed how smoky his clothes smelled, how smoky  _he_ smelled, until he'd taken a shower and gotten some new clothes on. Then he'd realized that Anna, who brushed past him as she walked into the bathroom to take a shower herself, was like a campfire on crack. And he knew he'd been the same. But he'd scrubbed his skin red with soap to try and get rid of it, so he hoped that he no longer smelled like a burnt corpse.

Per his usual routine, as soon as it was silent in the too-large house and dark in his own room, his brain began attacking him. Guilt, fear, panic, sadness, self-hatred, every emotion he'd felt all day amplified a thousand fold. No matter how hard he tried, he could never shut his brain off. People always told him to "just close your eyes and relax", but it wasn't that easy.

_You're a failure. Everybody hates you. You're the weak link. Fat. Stupid. Lazy. Clingy. Why do you keep trying? Just give up. You mess everything up anyway. That fire was your fault. You could have stopped it. You could have put it out. If you weren't so dumb, you could have. And kissing Dean was a mistake. He'll hate you forever now. What a stupid thing to do. Naomi is right about you. You aren't, and never will be, good enough. Look at you. You can't even do your homework right. You're just a waste of space. You..._

Cas could feel tears forming behind his eyes. Not wanting to start crying with Dean in the room, he swallowed the painful lump in his throat and climbed out of bed. He tiptoed past Dean, who was asleep on the floor surrounded by a mountain of pillows, and pushed his bedroom door open. It creaked gently, and he froze. Turning around, he saw both Dean and Stitch still asleep. Good. He turned and walked away from his room, hating the feeling of the cold floor under his feet. His legs ached. It had been a rough day. But there was no way he was getting any sleep.

At the bottom of the ornate staircase, Cas could go three ways. Left to the kitchen, right to the living room, or forward to the front yard.

He debated in his head the merits of a midnight walk, then turned that idea down. If he was going to binge, he would also end up purging it, and he was hoping to avoid that. So with difficulty, ignoring his cravings and the voice in his head telling him that a slice of cake would really help him feel better, Cas moved towards the living room.

He really wanted to listen to music- classical was his favorite- but his phone wasn't exactly functional any longer. So he walked through the room, through another, and into the library.

It was Chuck's library, of course, but the man hadn't stepped foot in it himself since before Anna was born. Lucifer didn't even live here anymore. Micheal preferred sports and hanging out with friends to reading. Gabe would occasionally hide from Naomi or hide his coke in here, but he'd never touch any of the actual books. Anna preferred her own lower level and more modern books. So only Cas ever used the library for its intended purpose.

It was his favorite place in the whole house, probably. In here, he could forget that anyone else existed. He could cuddle up under a blanket on an expensive couch, one of many scattered throughout the large room, and read until he fell asleep or got hungry. He was currently reading Agatha Christie, and of course this room had every single one of her books.

Cas found the couch he'd been at last time and practically dived under the blankets. When he grew up, he was moving out of Kansas and going to Hawaii. Or the Bahamas. Somewhere warm. He hated the cold.

Opening  _The Murder of Roger Ackroyd,_ Cas found his page and began to read.

 

oOo

 

Two hours later, Cas was done with  _The Murder of Roger Ackroyd_ and started on  _The Big Four_ , when he heard, very distantly, the front door open. He almost ignored it, but then realized that Sam and Dean were sleeping upstairs and this could be a problem.

He cautiously moved towards the front door and peeked around a corner.

It was Gabriel.

He would have come out of his somewhat sneaky position, but Gabe seemed to be extremely drunk and also had a girl next to him. Also drunk.

They were being fairly quiet, and Cas doubted that she'd stay for longer than the rest of the night or cause any problems, so he walked away as quickly and stealthily as possible. He was back in the library before he heard an extremely loud exclamation of laughter and a slurred voice saying "What's Cassie's boyfriend doing here? Dean-o, you sneak in or what?"

Oh shit.

Cas raced to get upstairs. The girl was practically falling down the staircase, and when he passed her, she reached out and grabbed his arm. She smelled like alcohol and too much perfume. She tried to whisper something in his ear, but Cas couldn't understand it. He heard one word that sounded a bit like "Sam" but that probably wasn't it.

He pulled away and ran even faster. Sure enough, Gabe was standing in his room and Dean was sitting up in his mound of pillows, rubbing his eyes. Sam was poking his head out of the guest room sleepily. Anna was standing outside her room, looking unsure what to do. Knowing her, she probably hadn't been sleeping either. It ran in the family to stay up all night.

Cas sighed. "Gabriel, what are you doing?"

"Well, I could say the same of you." Gabriel smiled, winked. The smile was practically a leer.

Oh.

Gabe thought he and Dean were-

Cas was not thinking about that.

Dean had apparently realized the same thing, and said "Sorry to disappoint, Gabe. Not today."

Gabe pouted dramatically, then turned and attempted to strut away, bumping into a wall on the way into his room. He said laughingly "Don't worry, Cassie, I won't tell Naomi! You can have your boyfriend all to yourself!"

All four watched as the door to Gabe's room shut. Anna, used to Gabriel's antics by now, turned away and disappeared into her room. Sam looked like he was falling asleep standing up, and also went back into the guest room. Dean looked at Cas wearily.

"Does Gabriel really think we're actually having sex?"

Cas frowned a little. "No, he just enjoys poking fun. I think."

Dean smiled at that. "You know, I like Gabe. He really cares about you, in his own way."

Cas snorted. "You don't know Gabe very well then."

"Nah, he doesn't show it, but he checks in with you every so often, makes sure you're not completely running off the rails. Micromanaging isn't his thing. But he opened each door when he walked up here, and not because he was drunk. He was checking to make sure you guys were okay. And he asks you about your grades and stuff every week or so. He does care."

He hadn't thought of that before. "Oh. That makes sense, I guess." Cas was seized with a sudden urge to go run and hug Gabriel.

"But why weren't you in here, anyway?" 

"I was downstairs. Reading. I don't really sleep that often. I prefer books to staring at the ceiling."

Cas didn't quite understand the look on Deans face. It was like a combination of exasperation and fondness.

"Well, that's great, Cas. You could start on your homework, you know. Just a thought."

"Homework is more of a Monday-morning-at-1-am activity."

"Right, silly me. You going to go back downstairs or what?"

"Yes, I will, I believe. You can come with. I'm sure you would love the books I'm reading."

Dean's laughter was tinged with bitterness. "Sammy's the smart one. He reads a lot. I'd rather sleep."

"Dean, I've told you before. You are just as intelligent as Sam. And reading doesn't require academic intelligence to enjoy."

"Thanks, Cas. But I'll go back to sleep. Night, I guess."

"Goodnight, Dean.'

Cas returned to his blanket nest and continued to read, but the room felt emptier than usual. As though it was missing something.

Or someone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I feel like this chapter was a little shorter than usual. Of course, my chapters are never very long to begin with, as I'm a slow writer :P.
> 
> I'm really sad right now though. My neighbor's house was robbed last night, and their new puppy was taken too! It was a tiny little puppy and so sweet! She was a cross between a Shih Tzu and a Yorkie and she was three pounds and so cute! :( They literally just got her last week and now she's gone. I feel so bad for them.
> 
> On that note, I'm going to post this chapter now. I'm proud of myself for actually finishing a chapter on time, too. Does anyone else here read Agatha Christie? She's my favorite author. I've read almost all of her books. I highly recommend her. My favorite is Sleeping Murder (Miss Marple's last case).
> 
> Anyway, bye! See you next week!


End file.
